Of Ravens and Snow
by Ravens in the Snow
Summary: They were two brothers destined to die but didn't. She was the one who wanted to change the path for her Clan. He was the one who would stray towards the shadows. And they would all ultimately travel the same path of dark and light.
1. Chapter 1 : Beneath the Cold Stars

****Hey guys! So this is my very first fanfic on this site ( about time to ) so this will be fun to see how this turns out. ^_^****

****Now, I don't have this whole series outlined yet, but I'm nearly done with the outline for this story and I have the ideas and everything for the rest, so we will hopefully be keeping a steady pace with this one and get it completed as quickly as possible. =D****

****Okay, so updates every Saturday will be the plan I think I will start with.****

****So, without delaying this any further, I present to you : Of Ravens and Snow : Chapter 1.****

****Disclaimer : I do not own Warriors.****

****Warnings : Nope****

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><p><strong>CHAPTER 1 :<strong>

**Beneath the Cold Stars**

"_Does the walker choose the path, or the path the walker?"_

_- Garth Nix, "Sabriel"_

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><p>It was cold. So cold. Both literally and metaphorically. The wind that bit and scratched and tore at her soft fur sent chills down her spine and through muscle and bone.<p>

Ears pinned against her head as she lowered it to plow through the roaring winds. She could not remember what it felt like to have paws for they had long ago grown cold and numb. She also forgot what it was like to have a while heart, her's having been smashed to pieces moons before.

But the pain of the cold and of the broken heart were far from her mind as she waded through belly-deep snow. The thing on her mind were the two beings that swung slowly in her jaws. They were small, so small. The mother wondered briefly how they had survived while their brother had been stillborn and their sister died moments after birth. Perhaps it was because they were the last two born of a litter that would have been four.

She had felt a connection between the two brothers that she had never felt before. Even though she had seen the birth of countless kits as it had been only one part of her duty as a medicine cat. A pang in her already broken heart forced her to close grief heavy eyes.

Yes, a one point she _had _been a medicine cat, but now those days were over ever since the destruction of her clan.

Of course it had only been a matter of time before that would happen.

Ever since losing the last heir to the throne and with Winterstar ripping apart their clan and their territory in his quest for conquest the clan had slowly died off until only two were left : the warrior Whitecrow and herself.

It was a cruel twist of fate that she had been stuck with Whitecrow - a kithood sweetheart who she had left behind when she had strayed from the warrior life for that of a medicine cat and who she had never lost her love for. It was only moons later they learned she was to have his kits and just a few weeks after that, that Whitecrow himself had been slain by a half-starved fox. She had gotten away, clumsy as she was with kits due in a moon.

What she didn't expect was them to be born a half-moon premature in the middle of the harsh Leaf-bare moons that lasted for six moons here in the Clans' territories. When the first had been born - still and dead - she knew all hope was lost for her kits. She had a right to, in a sense, for she had seen even the strongest kits fall at Leaf-bares wrath. When her second kit had been born some hope kindled in her chest as she watched him breath.

She tried, StarClan knows she tried to save him, but moments later he too succumbed to the freezing bite of that Leaf-bare night. She was in tears by the time her last two were born.

The first a silver tabby, so much like herself, and the last a small gray kit with a dash of black between his closed eyes and slivers of snow-white on his front paws, and all she could think was that they too were to die.

She licked them to stimulate warmth in the already shivering, tiny bodies. To her utter shock it had worked, they began to search for milk within moments. She was determined then on to save these kits no matter what.

Even if it meant giving them up to the Clans in hope of a better life for them.

That, of course, had been a last effort plan...

That plan was bring put into action today, as the pale, weak sun slowly sank towards the ground on this windy, cloudy dusk.

She hated herself for being weak, unable to care for her own kits while she had brought cats back from near death in the past. But, though she may hate herself for such weakness she wasn't stubborn to the point of arrogance. She knew her kits were better off in a clan.

What she didn't know was that she had long ago crossed the borders of IceClan.

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><p>The darkness was unnerving to her.<p>

Darkness was approaching with only a few faint rays of light showing the way along the already bleak path. She followed it none the less, desperate at this point to get her kits to safety and perhaps warmth.

She knew exactly where she was going.

It was towards the territory of IceClan, an old ally to her late clan who had welcomed them constantly with friendly warmth. She doubted they would recognize her, considering it had been eight years since the demise of her clan. But she could convince them. Surely some of the older cats would know her.

That's when she felt a small shiver run through her tiny kit and without a thought she turned from her North-eastern path and quickly found and old Oak, partially covered by bushes just a few yards from her one-minded trail. She thanked StarClan for her easy find and quickly dug at the snow around the roots of the old tree. Before long a shallow hollow was made and she quickly slid into it, gently placing her kits at her belly and wrapping her tail around them. Already the wind had died to a loud but distant groaning and only the softest of breezes ruffled her long, feathery fur.

She paused for a moment, listening with alert ears, before turning her green gaze downward. Her two small kits were curled up where her shoulder connected with her body. She stared at them, the tiniest of smiles crossing her features as she took them in.

The first born brother - the silver tabby - already had the thick fur of his father and strong build that had been that of his sire's. Indeed this kit was his father's kit. The youngest brother, though, was truly her kit. His gray fur, thought thick as well, was slightly more soft than his brother's while his delicate paws and narrow frame belonged to her.

She leaned down and gently licked each in turn, noting with worry their small shivers and weak mews. She turned once more to her surroundings and looked out into the blowing wind and snow, which had started falling hours ago.

She desperately wanted to continue on. If the snow got to high the clan would not patrol or hunt, instead turning to their reserves for what food they would need. But, she also wanted her kits to have a moment to compose themselves. She looked back to her kits and noticed how they paddled at her belly, searching for the life-giving milk that was not there. She nearly bit herself, in all her worry for her kits she had forgotten that she too needed food to sustain both her health and the milk for her kits.

Then again, nothing lived at such a time as Leaf-bare.

She lay there for a moment, conflicted on what to do. She had almost no more sunlight left, but enough to quickly hunt if she wished to. She sat there. Torn with either leaving her kits to hunt, or to lay low for the night and hope they survived.

Her eyes hardened.

Hope.

She was done having hope. If you wanted something to go your way, you better make it so, not hope it so. Mind made up she gave each of them a loving lick, "I shall return, my dears. Hold strong for me." the mother slipped from the hole and the cover of forage and raced out into the night.

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><p>The paws steps were fading. Fast, thanks to this unexpected snow storm.<p>

They had come from the West and were now heading straight for their camp, having long ago passed the border. The lone cat gazed at it with little interest in his amber eyes. But interest none the less.

And intruder was an intruder after all.

The cat's shoulders flexed stiff, tight muscles. The Leaf-bare days and nights were growing colder and colder. This was perhaps the last patrol IceClan would have for many days if the snow storm kept up at this pace. A clump of snow from a snow-laden branch dropped onto the tom's mud-brown shoulder. The tom gave and irritated shake, long tail slicking with annoyance, and the snow fell to the ground. He turned towards the North-east. Where the tracks were headed. He kept his gaze focused even when he felt a presence a little ways behind him.

Silently he followed the North-eastern direction of the trail.

The presence behind him faded a little.

The mud-brown tom picked up a quick trot, his long tail dragging in the snow behind him, occasionally flicking upward to detach a clump of snow. It surprised him how far the unknown cat had gotten into their territory.

Whoever they were was nearly on top of their camp.

The cat's steps stopped suddenly when the tracks abruptly turned. He twisted his head to silently follow them.

Why would the unknown cat suddenly turn off course? From what he had seen they had been bent on getting to the camp.

Curious now he followed the trail and soon came upon a clump of bushes and a grand old tree that the mud-brown cat recognized as the climbing tree apprentices used to train in. He blinked slowly, the memories swarming him like tiny schools of fish.

Then the mew caught his attention.

He tore his gaze away from the memory the tree held and pricked his ears up, straining to listen above the howling wind.

There! It was faint but there.

Tense shoulders stiffened further. Those were the mews of kits! The cat they must have been following must be a mother.

He crouched low and slow, ever so slowly, inched forward. He did not want to startle the mother, knowing well that she wouldn't be happy to him.

The tom didn't even notice the same set of paw steps that seemingly left the undergrowth and went back the way they had come.

He peered through the undergrowth and stopped short.

Where was the mother?

He moved forward, quicker this time. He was met with an odd sight. Two kits, silver tabby and gray, lay curled into one another as thought trying to share what little warmth they had. The cat gazed around. He quickly turned and left. He scanned the snowy grounds, eyes wide as he searched,

"Elkpath!" he called. He perked his ears and when his half-brother didn't make an appearance he grew annoyed,

"Elkpath! Get over here now!" he snapped to the air.

Shortly after a figure appeared. It was the cat who's presence had been behind the brown tom. The cat tilted his head, his brown tabby pelt was damp from falling snow. The newcomer's eyes gazed at the tom. Amber eyes gazing into amber eyes. That was were the appearances stopped.

The brown tabby was thick in build with a stout body. His older half-brother, the mud-brown tom, on the other hand was long and slender, more snake than cat it seemed. His tail alone was nearly half his size. The mud-brown tom glared at his younger half-brother,

"You won't believe what I found, come." he said. He turned and disappeared to where the kits lay curled. Elkpath followed silently. The mud-brown tom - who went by the name Snaketail - gazed at Elkpath as he made his appearance. The brown tabby's ears perked up in surprise as he took in the kits, watching them shiver. Oblivious to the possible danger the could be in.

It was a moment before Elkpath spoke, "Do these kits belong to our mysterious intruder, you think?" he asked thoughtfully.

Snaketail nodded, "I do not see why they wouldn't be. The question is, where is their mother?" he asked quietly, leaning forward to sniff the head of the silver tom, who weakly raised hie head before letting it fall back on top of his brother's back.

Elkpath looked around them in the small area where the wind did not quite reach them. __Whoever they are, the found a good spot.__He thought.

That's when he saw the trail.

The paw steps were more pronounced due to the fact the howling wind and torrential snow storm didn't quite reach the small grove. Without a word to his half-brother Elkpath quickly followed the trail.

When he emerged the wind lunged at him and clawed at his ears and long pelt. He saw that the trail was back tracking, going back the way it had come, and that it was nearly gone due to the persistent snow that continued to fall.

He stood a moment longer before returning to the kits and Snaketail,

"I believe she has left." he meowed thoughtfully.

Snaketail looked up sharply, amber eyes hard with an unknown emotion, but one that Elkpath knew well the origin of.

"Left?" was all Snaketail said, in a hushed voice.

Elkpath nodded, gazing at the kits once more, they had started shivering all the more since his quick disappearance. Snaketail's eyes narrowed as he, too, turned back to the kits,

"Why? She was working towards the camp. Why stop?" he asked in a hard voice that matched his eyes.

Elkpath took a deep, patient breath, knowing his half-brother's anger could easily boil over despite his usual calm, "Perhaps she knew she could not make it, let alone her kits. You know it's been done before. Or, perhaps, she knew her kits wouldn't make it and abandoned them to die." he reasoned, his eyes cloudy with thoughtfulness.

Snaketail's eyes suddenly grew sad and his long tail flicked unhappily, "No mother is that selfish." he muttered under his breath, hoping Elkpath wouldn't her him, that the snow storm covered up the words that meant more to this cat than any knew.

Not surprisingly, Elkpath heard him, "Look at them, brother. They look to be premature. How they have lived this far I do not know." he urged, trying to get his brother to see the logic, however sad it may be.

It had the complete opposite of what he wanted.

Snaketail's eyes grew determined and his tail flicked twice - a habit he had picked up when he was angered or determined. He turned amber eyes on amber eyes, "Perhaps it is a sign? From StarClan themselves? If they have made it this far and have not yet died." he argued.

Elkpath's ears flattened in slight annoyance, "Or luck." he snapped. But his elder half-brother paid no attention to him, quickly bending down and picking up one of the kits. The gray one. He gently placed it between his fore paws and turned to Elkpath, "Odd how you wanted so hard to save your kits and help the other queens with theirs, but no you will just leave these two mother-less ones to die." it was not a question, it was a full blown challenging statement.

Elkpath took a step back as though Snaketail had struck him. Her face flashed before his eyes, a gorgeous silver-and-brown she-cat with such warmth in her green eyes it pushed the Leaf-bare chill away. Then she was gone and he was left facing his stubborn half-brother and two near-dead kits.

He stood frozen for a moment, gazing at the two kits.

_Would one of them be silver-and-brown like her? Perhaps tabby like him? _He felt the tears comes but refused to let them fall. Not here. Not now. But Snaketail's words had sunk in : when _had _he turned away form a kit in need? Didn't the Warrior Code demand they help any kit in need? What _would _she think of him? Nothing good, he knew that.

He took a step forward, then another and reached into the hollow, gently grasping the scruff of the shivering silver tabby, and he suddenly realized he had, perhaps, saved a life.

Or prolonged an inevitable death.

He shook the thought away and turned to Snaketail, who was once more carrying the gray kit in his jaws. He sent a glare his way, "Who will take them?" he asked around a mouthful of fur. Snaketail's eyes glowed, "I believe Tallflame would be more than grateful to take them in. She has but one kit left alive. She will not mind another two." his eyes grew dull as he thought of the young she-cat, "Perhaps they can help her heart mend." he added ass an after thought.

_Or she will reject because the pain is still there. _But, Elkpath did not speak these words aloud.

As the two turned to leave the forage a sound reached their sensitive ears. A sound that belonged not to the snow storm.

It was a wrenching sound, a tearing sound. Then a massive grown seemed to split the air and there was a moment of silence before there was a massive thud that rivaled thunder and a great shaking of the ground that rivaled an earthquake.

The two kits let out startled mews, not understanding the unknown that seemed ready to reach them and tear them away from the warmth that now carried them.

There was a moment of silence before Snaketail pushed past Elkpath, "We must hurry. The first tree has fallen, the snow storm will not be letting up soon and we _need _to get back to camp." Snaketail called back, disappearing into the night with Elkpath right behind them.

The two raced across the snow as best they could, their paws powered by the fact that they _could not _be stuck in this weather for not only would the kits surely die, but they as well.

After what seemed like forever they came upon a bundle of mossy rocks that stood as the entrance to their camp. Without hesitation they leaped through it. Just as the second tree fell under the weight of the snow.

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><p>The two stood, panting, in the shelter of the mossy tunnel.<p>

The kits shivered with both fear and cold now and Snaketail quickly led the way, Elkpath at his shoulder.

Soon they emerged into an open clearing surrounded by high walls of stone about ten of Snaketail's tail lengths high, that flanked the camp while towards the back, where the land sloped gently up, was a wall of bramble and thorn. Along the walls were the dens for the clan. To their left was another jumble of rocks, the Leader's den and where he spoke to his clan. Next to that was the Medicine Cat's den, a much smaller mound of rocks that opened in a rather roomy den. The Medicine Cat's den was next to the nursery, an aged thorn bush that had withstood countless Leaf-bares. To their right was the Warriors' den, a mix of a bramble bush and a fallen tree. Beside that was the Elders' den, a Juniper bush that was the main source for the Clan's Juniper Berries.

The snow was not as deep as it was out in the territory, but it was still knee-deep none the less. As the two emerged two figures barred their way, curious but not threatening.

Who would come out in weather like this and attack IceClan?

The figures belonged to the two guards, both younger than the two half-brothers, but still experienced warriors. Once was a cream tomcat while the other was a broad-shouldered black tom. The cream tom blinked at them,

"You've returned! And not alone, I see!" he meowed in greeting, backing off to allow the two cats entrance to the camp. Elkpath said nothing but Snaketail turned to the cream tom, "is Tallflame still away, Palethorn?" he asked quietly. The cream tom perked his ears, "She has been restless, though you know the cause. I would not be surprised if she was." he meowed.

That was all the two needed and they quickly made their way over to the thorn bush and one by one made their way in.

The warmth of the nursery always surprised Elkpath as they entered. It was as if Leaf-bare was non-existent here. Three queens lay curled up. Two of them were fast asleep, their own kits curled into the warmth of their bellies. Elkpath noticed a small, pale brown she-kit gazing at him with curious green eyes,

"Go back to sleep, Sagekit." he whispered softly. Making sure the she-kit was asleep he followed Snaketail to the far back, where a lithe black-and-brown she-cat lay curled around one small tom.

At first Elkpath thought her asleep but then sharp green eyes gazed blankly at him. The she-cat slowly raised her head. Elkpath had to hold back a sigh.

One as young as Tallflame should not have to look of an elder.

He stood before her, gently placing the kit between his forepaws, watching as Tallflame's eyes followed the small kit, her ears perking in interest. She turned her gaze upward, "What do you wish to say to me, Elkpath?" she asked in a cool voice that feigned innocence.

Elkpath opened his jaws but Snaketail, who had placed the gray kit between his fore paws, beat him to it, "We wish to ask you to care for these kits. They are young, perhaps only days old. Certainly less than a week and possibly only hours old. I know you have lost your last two kits due to Greencough as well as your mate and only young Sunkit has survived, and the choice is yours entirely if you wish to care for them as you own or refuse them." he explained quietly, as not to wake the others.

Tallflame's eyes had scanned both the small toms, who still shook but not as bad, before turning to Snaketail with a cross flick of her ear, "You ask a foolish question, Snaketail. My heart still hurts for Fogkit and Bramblekit and now you present me with the choice of accepting or refusing these two. As if I can merely replace the ones I lost for these ones." she meowed with a sharp note to her voice.

Snaketail looked away, "A foolish question yes. But, the only one I have for you." he turned back to her, his eyes blank but with just the slightest shadow of begging in them.

There was a tense, harsh silence before Tallflame sighed and looked at the kits, "I would be a cruel cat to just let these kits die without a fight. They are premature, as I am sure you know, by at least a half-moon, if you remember how small that EmberClan she-cat's kits were from some years ago. Besides, I have more than enough milk to feed them. I will take them." she said with finality.

Elkpath couldn't stop the small smile that crossed his lips as Tallflame reached forward and gently placed the kits next to her own. He stared at them for a moment, watching as they suckled.

Suddenly a thought came over his mind and he turned to Snaketail, "What if Graystar does not accept them into the clan?" he whispered urgently. Snaketail's eyes narrowed with thought but a strong voice made them turn to the young she-cat who had taken in the kits destined to die,

"Then he will have to face me." she said these words with her eyes glued to her three kits.

Elkpath and Snaketail looked at each other with amused expressions.

That was good enough for them.

Elkpath turned away from the group and made his way outside. Snaketail glanced once more at the she-cat, "Thank you, Tallflame. Good night." he mewed, before turning and following Elkpath.

The wind howled and the snow fell hard and fast to the point of whiteout, and the cold bit deep and hard across the seven territories. All heard it and curled tighter in their nests to defend against the cold.

All but one.

The only cat who didn't take noticed was the queen within IceClan, who watched her firstborn and two adopted kits sleep.

Feeling, for the first time, a piece of her broken heart fix.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading!<strong>

**Feel free to leave a review, a favorite or a follow. Whatever makes you happy =D**

**- - Raven**


	2. Chapter 2 : History & Uncertain Futures

*****REWRITTEN*****

**8 / 1 / 2015 : If you're new to this story keep on reading. The note of this chapter being rewritten is for any old followers that still may be reading this. Which means if you're new skip over this A/N! Thank you!**

**A/N : As you can see. Chapter 2 has undergone a complete makeover. After a long absence thanks to life being life I finally got around to rereading and working on ORaS once again. And after rereading Chapter 2 ( formerly called _The World Around Them_ ) I realized one thing and one thing only.**

**I hated it.**

**I really did.**

**This story has done a complete 180 on me and its not what it was when we last visited it.**

**I would think this is much improved and I am quite happy with the results of this rewrite.**

**I hope you are as well for any who are still with me from when this was posted nearly a year ago.**

**Disclaimer**** : I do not own Warriors**

**POV**** : Silenthawk of AshClan**

**Warnings**** : None**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER 2<strong>

**History and Uncertain Futures**

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><p><strong>Seven moons later...<strong>

The blooming forest hid, beneath newly grown boughs, a world spotted with melting snow piles and thick paths of mud with puddles laying deep and smooth. Undisturbed and clear as a mirror.

They made no sound.

Side by side feline shapes swarmed and slithered through the forest like living shadows. The mud they avoided with intense precision. The snow they kept clear of. Anything to keep their tracks as hidden as possible. Especially this close to enemy borders.

The fresh grass shifted as the leader of the patrol split a path through the green sea of forage. Her eyes were concentrated. Deep green like shaded grass. Her chest was a mutilated mess of scars and muscle. On ear was completely torn away.

She was a veteran by means of the warrior life. A creature who had been shaped by endless training and countless battles into what she was now.

Numb.

But not emotionless.

And right now she felt a tight ball of unease rolling through her gut, and if there was one thing she had learned from years of being a warrior it was to _always_ trust you gut.

She watched as her patrol slowed. Turning to face their patrol leader with curious and concerned eyes.

She sat down. The crisp grass encasing her. The dew dropping on her brown tabby pelt, turning it to the color of the mud on the ground. The chill from the drops rippled up her spine, but she registered them only distantly.

The unease was eating away at her more violently than the dew's bite.

"Silenthawk?" The voice was gentle and she opened eyes she didn't even realized she had closed.

A thick set tom stood before her. Amber eyes searching in her green depths for clues of what was ailing his friend.

_He knows the reason_, she thought. She could taste the bitterness in her thought, as though she'd eaten crowfood.

She steadied her gaze, "I'm fine, Nightpath," she said. Her voice was firm, demanding obedience and respect.

Nightpath willingly gave it to her, but not without a prod, "I never asked how you were."

She rose to her paws, brushed by the black tom none to gently and stood before her patrol.

"We'll rest here for a bit. But don't get comfortable! We're moving out as soon as possible," she commanded.

There was the fainest murmur of silent disbelief on the faces of her sunhigh patrol. Silenthawk never paused a patrol. Not when they were this close to the border.

But she had and no one was arguing.

Silent as whispers the patrol spread out into concealment, watching the border with earnest eyes as they waited for her to give the heads up that they were continuing.

Silenthawk returned back to Nightpath's side. She watched the border, sitting down and curling her tail around her paws.

"They've been quiet," she whispered.

"They've all been quiet since the war ended," Nightpath replied as he sat beside her.

Silenthawk did not respond.

Time lapsed into silence. Only the shiver of the Newleaf breeze rattled new leaves and fresh grass. Blowing the sweet scent of rebirth across the land.

"I'm not fine, Nightpath," she finally said, breaking the silence like fragile ice cracking beneath a harsh force.

Those amber eyes were on her again. Gentle and quiet. Always there and watching her with a fierce protectiveness that came from years of battling side by side. And perhaps hinted at a bit more.

"I know," is all he responded with.

Silence reigned again between the two friends.

"You're worried about Winterstar." It wasn't a question in his voice.

Silenthawk shook her head slightly, "No, I'm worried for the future."

She turned to face Nightpath fully, "He has no heir, no mate. No one to take over-"

Nightpath interrupted her, ignored the burning glare sent his way, "Quickstorm gets to take over. If the Clan lacks an heir when the leader dies then the Gladiator takes over. Winterstar can't just name another cat in his place-"

"'The word of the Clan leader is the Warrior Code.' Rule number thirteen in the Warrior Code," Silenthawk shot back, her words sharp and slightly angered at being interrupted.

Nightpath snapped his jaws shut. He should've expected that. Silenthawk let no one get away with interrupting her. Let no one get away with humiliating her.

She always found a way to lash back. Just ten times harder.

He fell silent, humbled, as she continued, "Nightpath, our leader's words trample the Warrior Code. His words are the Code. He could be on his last breath and he could tell us to destroy the Clans like he tried to do all those years ago. And we'd have to follow his orders."

Nightpath shot her a look that told her he didn't believe that. That he wouldn't accept that, "But our new leader could overrule that-"

"No. Winterstar would make sure it was someone who would follow his ideas for AshClan. Someone who honored him like one of the Firsts."

Nightpath's whiskers twitched in quiet thought. He knew that this was true.

"So like an apprentice," he murmured.

Silenthawk nodded stiffly.

"Silenthawk, I don't think-"

She flicked her tail uneasily. She took a breath and let it out quietly, "It won't be me. He knows I disagree with his views. Former apprentice or not."

Before Nightpath could reply the brown tabby switched the subject away from the current one in a rush of half thought words, "No sign of ShatteredClan."

"No," Nightpath agreed easily, letting the subject drop.

"I think we can head back to camp."

Nightpath didn't turn to her. Watched as the steady stream - the border between AshClan and ShatteredClan - sparkled and twinkled warmly in the distance. Saw the trees wave softly like green sky above them.

The words were casual, but the venom was there and clear. Burning.

"You want to watch an old tyrant die?"

Silenthawk's eyes were grim as she turned to Nightpath. The green seemed darker somehow.

"No," she said slowly, "I want to see who will lead our Clan. To light or to dark."

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><p>Silenthawk always wondered how the world somehow became calm when death approached.<p>

Even in the midst of battle the dying seemed to find a sense of calm among the blood and chaos and the screams as they slipped away.

Silenthawk would know. She'd seen it in a glimpse past fallen enemies. Seen it ghost across the face of her first apprentice as she lost him in his first real battle. His throat torn away, gushing blood that would not stop.

And still he had looked calm and peaceful as his tired eyes met her's in a quiet apology before they dulled and closed.

She had refused to take an apprentice since.

But, this was a more noticeable calm as the patrol entered into the dusty clearing. The sparse leaves couldn't hold back the sunlight and it flared through the clearing with strength in its rays. As if reaching for the spirit that would join the ranks of StarClan soon.

The Clan itself was going about their duties. But, they too seemed lost in a daze. Lost in a limbo that slowed their movement and took away their motivation.

The death of anyone was something always mourned. Whether it be a kit or a tyrant.

Tyrant.

Even with her dislike of her former mentor Silenthawk found herself defending him, however reluctantly. She knew deep down that Winterstar had done what he believed to be right for AshClan by sending them to war.

Every leader and warrior did what they believed was right for their Clan, didn't they?

But, deep down, Silenthawk knew that Winterstar had also done what his mother had made him believe. Made him think he deserved.

And she had told him that he deserved to be the leader of one Clan united.

She knew Winterstar's ideas were not only fueled by his mother's ambition for him, but it also came from his constant paranoia.

His paranoia was a difficult thing to understand. The tom had always been worried over borders and enemies. Over assassination attempts and mutiny in his Clan. So great was his paranoia that he unleashed all the stress in a vicious attack on the nine other Clans to make his dreams come true. Because without borders to worry about he had no enemies to fear outside his Clan. Less of a chance of an assassin slinking into his den to kill him.

As the lone ruler of all ten Clans united as one he would know everything that happened.

Of course, that was a faint dream. There was always something that someone didn't know about.

"Silenthawk, Winterstar has requested you in his den."

She blinked the thoughts away, turned to see a small apprentice watching her with curious eyes.

She turned to the tumble of rocks that was the Leader's den before turning to the apprentice.

"Me?" She whispered.

The apprentice nodded.

She glanced over at Nightpath, who returned her gaze with a carefully blank look before he stalked away to help where help was needed.

Silenthawk could feel the warmth of the New-leaf sun. Could feel the hard packed earth from where countless others had trodden as she padded to the den. A guard stood poised outside and after a moment's analysis of Silenthawk he stepped aside and let her through.

The den was cool. The tumble of rocks allowed almost no heat to come in and it was shrouded in shade. Moss clinging in the darkest of corners and the damp smell of darkness could almost be tasted on her tongue.

Inside there were three cats. Silenthawk recognized Thornpool, Winterstar's first apprentice before Silenthawk. She saw Smalltree, deep brown and slender. She was AshClan's medicine cat.

Silenthawk warily noticed that there was no Quickstorm.

In between the two cats lay who she expected to be there.

Winterstar.

Once broad shouldered and thick the gray tom had whittled away to nothing but fur and bones. His rib cage jutted violently through thin and grimy fur and the countless scars on his side seemed like seams. Ready to rip open if the rib cage pushed any harder. His cloudy blue eyes flickered slowly to her. They were the eyes of the dying still breathing.

Here but not here.

Silenthawk noted almost miserably that the paranoia was still there, if not more evident than before, swimming through murky blue depths.

"No one followed you?" His voice was still smooth and clear. It was still the voice of a leader and mentor.

"No," she replied simply.

He twitched his head in what could've been a nod.

Thornpool watched him quietly. A usually reserved cat the gray and white tom was massive in size. His thick fur only added to his already huge build and in the gloom of the den the scar on his left shoulder seemed to glow. Despite his rough appearance he was a gentle soul and most held a great respect for him while the others held a fear of him.

Winterstar was one of the later.

"What are we here for?" Thornpool asked after a moment, voice respectful. Tail twitching thoughtfully.

Winterstar glared at him with suspicion, "You'll see. We have two more we are waiting for."

They didn't have to wait long.

Silenthawk didn't know how they managed to fit all of them in the den. But, then again, maybe the den was bigger than Silenthawk gave it credit for. Not that she had stepped paw into the cave that many times before.

The two cats who entered were toms. One was a large, short furred white and black cat with eyes that looked like they had been carved from yellow stone. The other beside him was smaller, a rich brown with a white chin and with blue eyes set in a young face. He was relatively untouched by means of scars except for the long scar that crossed below his right eye and curved down his cheek to end near his chin.

Silenthawk recognized them as two of Winterstar's closest adviser.

"You wished to see us, Winterstar?" The small brown tom remarked.

"Yes, Dustmouse," Winterstar rasped, his voice losing it's edge. Morphing into something smaller. Something more gentle.

Silenthawk realized it was contention that colored his voice now.

She couldn't remember a time when Winterstar was content.

"I gathered you here today as witnesses. I am too weak to tell the Clan. But, I am not weak enough to inform a handful. To inform you," Winterstar continued.

The silence was suddenly unnerving. It was swelling into something thick and choking. Anticipation hovering in the air.

No one spoke.

"I have no heir. They were slaughtered over the course of the War of the Lost. A war started by me." Regret and shame tinged his voice now. His blue eyes seemed to turn sad, "And so, before you, I shall name a new successor in my place."

From the corner of her eye she saw Dustmouse and Darkcloud, the black and white tom, exchange a glance of mild surprise.

After all the title of leader belonged to Quickstorm by added rule to the Warrior Code.

Smalltree's tail swayed nervously from where she watched the dying cat. The unease was rolling off her. Joining the anticipation and silence in the air.

"And who will that be?" Thornpool asked, his voice had taken on it's own tone. Deeper and more hollow.

It was a tone he used when greatly curious.

Winterstar turned to Thornpool with deep eyes. Eyes that seemed to clear and it was in that moment of clarity that Silenthawk saw it. Winterstar's dreams for AshClan reflecting sharply in the blue orbs. A dream she thought had died as the War of the Lost ended with AshClan's defeat.

The tense knot of unease unraveled suddenly in her stomach and she realized that she was ready. Ready for whoever became the new leader.

Winterstar managed to scrape his gaze over all the cats gathered. Took a shallow breath and announced, "Shadowthorn shall be the new leader of AshClan. My power as leader is given up so that he may receive it along with StarClan's blessing of nine lives."

Shadowthorn. Relatively young, not very old. The mentor of three successful apprentices. Strong willed and open minded. Good with all cats. But very, very unpredictable.

No one knew what he was going to do next and no one knew his motives.

But, just as Nightpath and her had expected, Shadowthorn had only intense loyalty to Winterstar and agreed with almost all of his ideas for AshClan.

Darkcloud's eyes widened at the mention of his brother. The yellow eyes turning from stone to sharp emotion.

He opened his jaws, "Winterstar-"

"That is my final say, Darkcloud, you have no right to challenge my words," the dying cat whispered, head falling to the moss on his bed as he sucked in his final breaths.

_No_, Silenthawk thought, _But, Quickstorm might._

They didn't get another say as Smalltree turned to them with bright green eyes, "Leave, please. He needs peace in his final moments."

They left without a word, only Smalltree stayed.

Outside of the den the guard stood at attention. Though the way he glanced at them made Silenthawk think he might have been listening.

Padding towards the Warriors' Den, a deep fern with thick fronds, she was stopped by Nightpath. The black cat was watching her.

"What did Winterstar want?"

She watched him with quiet eyes, "He wanted the last say."

"Who is it?" Nightpath's voice turned quiet, became a whisper, "Who?"

Silenthawk gazed around the camp for a moment before she turned to her friend, "Shadowthorn."

Nightpath's ear twitched in quiet astonishment, "Shadowthorn," he whispered.

"Yes." She paused before continuing, "Maybe there's a chance, Nightpath."

The tom's eyes had clouded in thought. He blinked it away and looked at her, "What?" He asked.

"Maybe there's a chance that Shadowthorn can redeem AshClan. Bring it back to the glory it was before Winterstar and his mother."

"Cats don't forget the past so easily. Not after what those two did."

"No, but maybe they can start to forgive it." She raised her head to the sky. The leaves seemed brighter. The breeze more fluent, dancing through sky and forest. The sun seemed to sparkle and the darkness that seemed to shroud AshClan since Spottedstar - Winterstar's mother - began to crack before her eyes as if in hope.

Or, it was just another glimpse. A glimpse of something AshClan would never reach again.

* * *

><p><strong>Thank you all for reading the new and ( hopefully ) improved Chapter Two!<strong>

**If you feel up to it leave a review, favorite, or a follow!**

**- - Raven**


	3. Chapter 3 : Begin

**A/N : Welcome back guys! It's only been a month or so since the last update and I am back once more! This chapter would've come out sooner ( like two weeks sooner ) but I had a bit of an accident that resulted in both my hands getting a bit injured as well as my knee and arm and this thing was only half finished.**

**But, I'm mostly healed up now and I'm getting more and more spare time between school and an original work that's been going on with my dear, dear friend for little over two years!**

**Which means an update for ORaS!**

**Thank you guys so much for your views and reads! Even if it's only a handful I love each and every one of you silent readers from the bottom of my heart! ^_^**

**( Oh and don't worry about a late update! Chapter 4 is already well on it's way to being edited =D expect it posted on 10/30/2015! )**

**So, without delaying you any further please enjoy Chapter 3 : Begin!**

**Disclaimer**** : I do not own Warriors**

**POV**** : Silverpaw of IceClan**

**Warnings**** : None**

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER 3<strong>

**Begin**

* * *

><p>The smell of rain was vibrant.<p>

The storm was coming, as evident by the darkening skies and trembling air that was thick with electricity that only a storm of great magnitude could muster up.

Huddled near the towering stone walls that flanked the entrance of the camp the apprentices and their mentors waited for the remainder of their group to join them before making the trek out into the territory and blooming forest. Even a moon after the Great Thaw the snow was still thawing in the IceClan camp. Irregular clumps of gray and melting snow littered the camp randomly and large puddles where other mounds already had melted adorned the camp. Leaving it spotted with puddles and snow with hardly any dry areas to rest or work.

Silverpaw shifted on suddenly cold and impatient paws as he crouched next to his brother, his silver tabby pelt fluffed out to battle the chill of the Newleaf air that twisted its way down into the secluded camp. Warning of the coming rain.

Darkpaw, in sharp contrast with his brother, sat straight and calm. The dark gray tom was a usually reserved individual compared to his hot tempered and constantly moving brother. And he showed wisdom well beyond his years in both temperament and mentality.

"Stop shifting, Silverpaw, you're making _me_ impatient!" The words were sharp with excitement, coming from the pale brown she-cat who was crouched on his other side. Amber eyes brimming with the untamed enthusiasm that came with the inexperienced and the young.

"Sorry," Silverpaw apologized, though the word was far from truly sincere, "I just wish Frostshard would hurry up a bit. He's been talking with Graystar forever." The words were muttered and subdued, though an ear flicked angrily.

"To be fair he is the Crown Prince," the pale brown apprentice, Amberpaw, pointed out, "You can't expect him to _not_ have things to talk about with Graystar."

Amberpaw's words made Silverpaw's stomach turn as nervousness washed over him. He knew well what rank Frostshard held in the Clan. Eldest kit of Graystar, Frostshard was next in line to rule IceClan when Graystar joined StarClan. He had no personal experience with the tom, but had heard from countless cats that he was a strict cat. Expecting to be listened to and expecting nothing short of cooperation to the highest degree.

But, after coming face to face with the tom in his apprentice ceremony, Silverpaw wondered how true the words were. Frostshard seemed more than happy, even content, to have Silverpaw as an apprentice. His green eyes having been filled with a kind of gentle warmth.

And that was almost as bad as a strict mentor. It only added fuel to Silverpaw's biggest fear.

Which was failing under Frostshard's mentoring.

He knew, deep down, it was an irrational fear and one he shouldn't dwell on, but he didn't want to seem weak to his mentor. Especially since his mentor was the Crown Prince who would some day be his leader. Especially because those around him already seemed to view him and his brother as weak after their ceremonies had been delayed a whole moon. Pushing it to seven moons instead of the traditional six.

"To be fair," the words came out almost bitter, "Graystar delayed Darkpaw and I's apprentice ceremony a whole moon. He should expect a bit of impatience."

Seven moons old and only today had he and his brother gotten their apprentice names. And every time he thought of it like that he found he felt cheated by the old tomcat for some reason that escaped him daily.

"Watch your tongue, Silverpaw." Imposing and calculating Amberpaw's mentor, Lizardclaw, glared down at Silverpaw from where he sat with the present mentors as they waited, "Be grateful you even made it this far. You know how it was. You and your brother were sick, almost dead. Be thankful that you're both alive today."

Under the deep brown tom's scorching yellow gaze Silverpaw turned his attention to the damp ground, tail twitching nervously, "I am thankful."

"Don't be so hard on him, Lizardclaw. We were all like that as apprentices... Well... maybe not you, but that's not the point." Windchaser, laying on his side lounging just beside Dovesong, piped up. Cracking open a single brown eye that landed squarely on the older warrior.

Lizardclaw met the laid back cat's remark, "He's not a kit anymore, Lizardclaw, it's time he stopped complaining like one."

Windchaser's brown eyes sparked with amusement, like he found Lizardclaw's threats to be almost funny.

Silverpaw found he couldn't share the lighthearted tom's amusement. Humbled by Lizardclaw's words Silverpaw found himself silent as they waited for Frostshard.

It was only a few moments later before Frostshard emerged from the Leader's den.

The Prince's pelt was a pale shade of silver that seemed white in the shifting sun. Glittering with hints of silver when the sun caught it just right as he padded his way over to them. At his shoulder was Graystar's second eldest, Cliffsong. While both were compact cats with toned muscles and thick pelts Cliffsong took after their mother, Forestbird, in appearance. Slightly smaller and less slender than his older brother Cliffsong was a strong brown and white tom, more bold than his brother but respected all the same when it came to the Clan and the other Clans around them.

On Frostshard's other side padded, on quiet paws, Darkpaw's mentor Palethorn.

The pale cream tom seemed to have a look of thought on his face. Yellow eyes narrowed even as the dark clouds that promised rain moved ever closer to taking the sun under its dark cover.

With Palethorn silent the two siblings were talking in low voices to each other. But, whatever they were saying was something of less importance. A casual talk between two brothers.

They broke their conversation as Cliffsong turned towards the Warriors' Den and away from the group of mentors and apprentices to gather up what must have been another patrol for sunhigh.

Frostshard and Palethorn returned the greetings given to them by their fellow mentors as they stopped beside them. Silverpaw scrambled to his paws and Frostshard turned warm green eyes to him with their own excited glow, "Sorry that took so long," he remarked, "I didn't think father would take so long."

"What did he want?" Windchaser hadn't gotten to his paws, settling for turning his head up and towards Frostshard with a lazy flick of his tail.

"He wanted to talk about patrols. ShatteredClan has taken a liking to our borders again and their scents are getting too close for our liking," Palethorn cut in, tail swishing in one of the few dry patches of land behind him.

"I understand. Is that why Cliffsong went to get some cats? For a patrol?"

Frostshard nodded, green eyes deep in thought as he looks at the camp walls, "Yes. Only a small one. But, I didn't come here to repeat what we talked about. I believe we have some apprentices that have been waiting patiently for their first time to venture out into the forest."

"I wouldn't exactly use _patience_ as a describing word for this group of apprentices," Lizardclaw grumbled, sending a glare towards Silverpaw, who refused to meet his gaze.

"Enthusiasm is good," Dovesong remarked as she stood and stretched, "I'd rather have an apprentice willing to learn then one willing to ignore every word I say."

Lizardclaw didn't reply, turning away from the group with an arrogant flick of his head.

"Let's not waste time then," Frostshard remarked, "We should be able to get through most of eastern part of the territory before the storm hits."

Leaning towards Darkpaw as he stood Silverpaw muttered under his breath, "I feel bad for Amberpaw. She's stuck with Lizardclaw."

Darkpaw, as was usual with him, gave a mere shrug, "She needs someone to rein in that temper of hers. A strict mentor will do her good."

Silverpaw playfully nudged his brother as they followed the group out of the den, "Whatever." That's when the realization that they were actually leaving camp for the first time came up to him almost in a blind rush and he felt his fur tingle with excitement just as every apprentice's did on their first time out of camp, "I can't believe we're going outside the camp," he whispered under his breath as the cool shadows of the entrance covered them from the dwindling sunlight.

There was a purr of amusement from Windchaser who padded alongside Dovesong, "Well, it's not as exciting as it seems-"

There was a swat from Dovesong's tail across a tabby ear and the ginger tabby turned sharp brown eyes on her as she shook her head, "You were the exact same way, Windchaser. You were basically squealing like a kit."

Windchaser turned his head away as the entrance erupted in amused agreement from the older cats, "I believe you were just the same, Dovesong."

Dovesong's bright blue eyes, glowing even in the gloom of the tunnel, showed nothing but mischief, "At least I'm not in denial over it."

Windchaser glanced at her, but remained in content silence as finally, finally, they left the tunnel, left the camp, and entered the forest.

* * *

><p>The first thing Silverpaw was aware of was how overwhelmed he was with the scents.<p>

There was something almost plain about the scents of the camp compared to the scents of the forest. The camp was filled with blurred smells and common noises. It had that invisible scent to it that your home always had.

The forest was fresh and new. Life budding before their eyes, green leaves waving down to them from the high boughs and the sharp, cold smell of the melting snow was completely different then the melting snow of the camp. Where as the camp snow smelled of mud and dust the snow in the forest smelled cleaner. More cool.

The grass was reaching up through the soft ground, springy with rebirth beneath their paws as they paused for the barest of moments before finding the well worn path traversed by countless generations of IceClan members.

Twisting to follow the near grass covered trail Silverpaw couldn't help but put a bit of spring in his step. Exuding his eagerness in the subtlest of forms as he pranced between Frostshard and Patchpaw, who's blue and green eyes were wide and bewildered as he gazed up at the trees to the strips of graying sky above.

Silverpaw's own yellow eyes were trying to catch as much detail as he possibly could. From the smallest puddle to the largest Oak as the group of mentors and apprentices walked through the forest.

"Wow, this is amazing," Patchpaw's words were almost sheepish. The quietest one of the apprentices Patchpaw was the most observant, save for perhaps Darkpaw. But, at the same time he was wary. Naturally on edge and always worrying of criticism from others.

Silverpaw was just glad Patchpaw had received Dovesong as a mentor and not Lizardclaw. The young calico tom needed a gentle paw in his training. Not a strict one.

"I remember how much it contrasted with the camp," Frostshard spoke up, a hint of nostalgia entering his voice, bitter and sweet, "I had the same reaction."

There was shift of undergrowth not far behind them and Silverpaw glanced back sharply over his silver shoulder.

"It's just Cliffsong with his patrol," Frostshard reassured, his own head tilted towards the camp, "They'll be heading to ShatteredClan's border."

"Which means we should head to the EmberClan border," Lizardclaw remarked, taking a more well traveled trail that was wide and sunken. Pooling with water from the melted puddles.

The larger cats cleared an especially deep and big puddle with ease. The apprentices weren't as lucky.

Amberpaw was the first to fall short. Sending sparkling, glittering waves of the clear liquid high into the air.

Letting out a startled squeak the light brown she cat picked herself, only to have her brother splash right next to her. Sending a bigger wave over her and drenching her there.

"Thistlepaw!" She shrieked, narrowing her amber eyes at her identical brother's own.

With a purr of amusement Thistlepaw dodged the splash directed at him with sharp agility and speed that made him a blur of smooth brown. Leaping clear of the puddle and his drenched sibling.

"And here I thought we were apprentices now," Patchpaw murmured kindly from beside Silverpaw as they edged around the puddle, saving themselves the embarrassment of floundering in the water like Amberpaw and Thistlepaw.

Catching sight of his dark gray brother slinking through the longer grass on near silent paws Silverpaw smirked, "I guess some act like it more than others."

The mentors, purring with amusement at the antics of their apprentices, waited and watched as the apprentices gathered around them.

Little words were spoken between the group. If any were spoken it was to joke with Amberpaw on her dilemma. For the most part, though, the patrol was soon focused and charging along the path at a rate that made the apprentices yearn for breath as their untrained lungs and limbs protested at the sudden sprint across the territory.

It was only when they reached the edge of the forest that the mentors allowed for pause. The apprentices gasping for the cool air to sooth their burning lungs as they stopped and looked out from the forest.

The land tilted down in a soft sloping hill. Spiked with long, deep grass into the low valley below. Spotted with purple covered Heather bushes and even the occasional clumps of Lupine flourishing in the New Leaf air and warmth. As Silverpaw followed the dipping landscape he found his eyes crawling up the far side of the valley. Pricking his ears as his eyes found two towering piles of rocks that seemed to keep guard at the top of the hill. Their dark and massive figures like haunting shadows in the dimming light.

"Those are what we call Two Guards." Palethorn's voice startled Silverpaw from his awe of the sweeping land before him, "That marks the border between EmberClan and IceClan. Currently the Two Guards belongs to IceClan."

"What do you mean _currently_?" Patchpaw's voice is small compared to the pale cream tom's words as he looks at the warrior.

"Back when the Firsts came and settled the land," Palethorn explained, "EmberClan and IceClan were bitter rivals. Two Guards was their deciding grounds on almost every occasion. EmberClan eventually claimed it as their own. Though, during the War of the Lost, EmberClan and IceClan became great allies to help defeat Winterstar's conquest, which resulted in the destruction of three of the former ten Clans. In return for our loyalty EmberClan gave us Two Guards as a gift. We've been friends ever since."

"Just like that? After generations of conflict you guys become friends basically overnight?" Amberpaw, now dry and comfortable from where she's laying beside her brother, has a tone of disbelief as she narrows amber eyes up at the tom.

Palethorn sends her a smile, though its Dovesong who answers, "Sometimes, old enemies can become great friends. Cats and Clans change just as the seasons do. It just depends on if you're willing to give them the chance to change. Trust me, EmberClan was not fond of our request as allies just as we weren't fond of working with them. Clearly the feelings didn't stay like that for long."

Amberpaw, for once, remained quiet as she takes in the information with a more than serious look to her young face. Eventually she nods in understanding. Turning her gaze to the Two Guards in the distance.

"The border stretches from the Two guards all the way to the Edge. And with EmberClan as our only neighbor along here we don't have to worry much about intruders. Though regular patrols are sent this way just to make sure." Frostshard puts in.

Just as he explained that Silverpaw's eyes picked up movement in the distance. Peering closer Silverpaw could just make out six figures in the distance. Three of them smaller than the others as they climbed the rocks.

"I think that's Sunpaw!" Silverpaw exclaimed, noticing the ginger tabby and white figure of Darkpaw and his older brother.

Darkpaw's head twisted to watch the patrol, yellow eyes wide as he takes in the patrol.

"That's the Sunhigh patrol. At least part of it," Windchaser murmured, watching the distant group's progress with careful eyes, "The other half can't be far behind."

Just as Silverpaw was about to step forth to call to Sunpaw a single, fat drop of rain plummeted and splashed on his nose. Sending chills down his nose and making him shake his head. Turning to the sky he watched as the dark clouds split before him. Sending down drops of rain until it escalated into a near sheet like downpour. The air hissing at the cold assault and the cats scrambling for cover beneath the thicker boughs of older trees.

Amberpaw snickered from where she lay beside her brother under a fern, "Now you're as soaked as I was. StarClan has a great sense of karma," she joked, ignoring the glare her brother sent her way.

In the cover of the underbrush and with the thick branches blocking a majority of the rainfall the mentors and apprentices watched the Sunhigh patrol as they scattered beneath the Two Guards where, Silverpaw concluded, there must have been shallow coves for them to shelter in.

"Well, I believe that cuts back on our tour for the day," Windchaser replied, not sounding very concerned as he flicked an ear to rid it of a stray drop of rain as he looked at Frostshard, "Should we head back, you think? Give the apprentices a bit of a break after all that running?"

Frostshard nodded, "I think we should. The rain will only make it harder to navigate and I don't want them by the Edge if its going to be slick."

"We can handle it!" Thistlepaw remarked, sitting up to face the silver tom, "Can we go, please? Sagepaw says it's the coolest part of the territory!"

"Thistlepaw, you'll get your chance to see it," Windchaser, mentor to the young brown cat, spoke up gently, "For now we'll let the storm pass and see it when its dryer. Alright?"

The young apprentice looked ready to argue his point, but, after a moment, relented and nodded to Windchaser, "Alright, sorry. I'm just so excited to see the territory."

Silverpaw could easily share his friend's enthusiasm. But, he could also feel exhaustion creeping through his being. As cold and bothersome as the rain.

Windchaser flicked Thistlepaw's ear with his tail, "No need to apologize. Just know what your limits are."

"Lizardclaw, Dovesong. Go to the Two Guards and get the Sunhigh patrol, tell them they can come back to camp. We'll meet you there," Frostshard spoke up, his voice taking on the tone of a leader and Silverpaw felt himself listening to the tom's words carefully, even if they weren't directed at him.

Without a word of complaint or a word at all the brown she-cat and tom bounded away and down the slope. Disappearing into the long grass.

After a moment of watching the two cats make it to the Two Guards Frostshard flicked his tail, "Let's go back. Before the rain makes it any harder on the trails." After waiting for everyone's nod of agreement the silver tom turned on his paws and quickly slithered his way through the undergrowth. The others following right behind.

Silverpaw paused, suddenly realizing that his brother was no where to be seen nor had he heard from him in a while. Retracing his few, short steps he found Darkpaw huddled under the drooping fronds of a fern bush. Watching the Two Guards with a stillness to him that worried Silverpaw.

"Hey, brother," he said, standing beside him and looking down at him, "We have to go-" He paused, feeling the shock cross his face.

Darkpaw's yellow eyes were watching everything and nothing. Glazed over the usually bright yellow was a pale cream as he watched the Two Guards with unseeing eyes. His tail twitched once, twice. He let out a breath that sounded shaky. Muttered words that Silverpaw couldn't hear.

"What did you say?" The silver tom leaned closer to his brother, startling as the dark gray cat turned to him with large and worried eyes.

The words that followed sent a chill down his spine and a sharp worry in his heart as he finally heard the words his brother breathed in a voice that did not seem like his own, "_Falling. Can't you see the moon black as night. Falling. We'll all fall one way or another. We'll all fall."_

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><p><strong>Darkpaw is perhaps the most interesting character you'll meet as of now. And you haven't even officially met him! But, sooooooon!<strong>

**Oh, and I may or may not have a whole bunch of gray and or silver cats and for that I'm sorry XD**

**But, thank you guys for reading and looking through ORaS! I appreciate the silent readers and those who care to share their minds on my writing! Next chapter involves a new and very important character as well as conflicting feelings of to do or not to do! Fun times I know!**

**Leave a review, favorite, or follow if you're up to it, friends!**

**Have a great day!**

**- - Raven**


	4. Chapter 4 : Between Gray Lines

**A/N : Hello guys! Welcome back and to a new year as well!**

**As you could probably tell I disappeared off the face of the earth ( shocker, right? XD ). The unannounced hiatus on this story has come to an end! As I'm posting this chapter not only have I am cleaning up the first chapter, but I also have the next five chapters written! Hopefully that'll make up for my absence. ****= D**

**But, in other news, thank you for the views and reads guys! I do hope you're enjoying reading through this story though at times I feel like something is possibly missing! If you have any criticism for me don't be afraid to point it out! Though do remember that constructive criticism and flames are two very different things! But, thanks to anyone who gave this story a chance! = D**

**Oh! And have you guys seen the new covers for the Warrior books! ^(0o0)^ They're so pretty and amazing. But, I suppose I have the original covers ****(just like practically all of us XD) so I'm a bit happy and a bit disappointed at the same time.**

**Until next time, enjoy ORaS Chapter 4 : Between Gray Lines!**

**Disclaimer**** : I do not own Warriors**

**POV**** : Shadowthorn of AshClan**

**Warnings**** : None**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER 4<strong>

**Between Gray Lines**

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><p>The wind clawed savagely at them.<p>

Shadowthorn barely registered the distant and dark clouds of the retreating storm. He was focused on his own thoughts as the three AshClan cats waited on their side of the border that they shared with RainClan.

The sun was already starting its descent from its sunhigh position. The rays gleaming and brilliant after the storm had wandered off to the horizon after unleashing its power on the seven territories. The wind jolting and snagging at the cats, as if to remind them of the storm's power.

Puddles, large and disturbed by the tumult air, patched the moor in the distance in gleaming spots on the ground. The area around the border, though, was thick with Heather and even some of the more hardy bushes.

Shadowthorn's ears swiveled, but with half hearted interest.

His muscles hadn't unwound and his heart hadn't stopped pounding the moment he had returned from patrol a day ago and had been pulled away from the camp by the medicine cat Smalltree to be told that Winterstar had passed away while he had been patrolling.

He remembered feeling all kinds of emotions in that split moment after the words had left the brown she-cat's mouth. He remembered feeling sharp denial that the cat, who had raised him after his parents had been killed in the War of the Lost, had finally died. He then remembered feeling numb. The way his mind shut down as it tried to process this rapid turn of events.

He also remembered feeling the sharp and terrifying fear that came with Smalltree's next words.

The conversation came back to him as clearly as the skies above, with its glimmering sun and burning blue skies.

_"He named you as leader of AshClan with his final words."_

_Me_, he thought, feeling himself tense and his tail flick nervously as it always did these days, _Leader of AshClan._

He hated how he didn't feel honored or astonished at being named leader. He had felt nothing but cold dread and fear.

He, despite his good natured attitude to nearly all the cats in the Clan and his easy going ways, was not a favorite among his Clan. Worry that Winterstar had corrupted him and his brother, Darkcloud, as young kits after he had taken them in had swirled as endless rumors around the camp since that fateful day where they learned their parents had been slain in the Battle of Three.

"... Awake?"

Shadowthorn blinked blue eyes. His brother's deep voice dragging him from his haunting thoughts.

He turned sharply, fur prickling uneasily as he met his brother's yellow eyes, "What did you say, Darkcloud?"

"I asked if you were awake." Darkcloud was concerned despite the stoic look in his eyes.

"Of course I am. Why would you ask that?"

There was a purr of dry amusement from Smalltree as the slender she-cat watched the heather closely, though she did not say anything.

Darkcloud's eyes held no amusement, "You just seemed to be asleep on your paws is all."

Shadowthorn felt as though he had missed something and he felt the slightest bit of curiosity.

What had he missed?

He let it pass, though, without a mouse length of questioning what Darkcloud could've said.

He watched the moor just as closely as Smalltree. He could still feel his brother's gaze on him.

"We should just go," he muttered, shifting his paws uncomfortably, "We've been waiting long enough."

"Patience, Shadowthorn. Their sunhigh patrol will reach us eventually," Smalltree reassured, looking to the blinding sun with those bright green eyes of hers.

"My brother has no patience." Shadowthorn was relieved to hear the joke in Darkcloud's voice.

He smirked at his black and white sibling, "I'd like to think I'm not as bad as when I was a kit."

"Well, you've improved, I'll admit. But, you could still use some improvement."

The trio purred in amusement and for once the aura around them was calm and happy and Shadowthorn felt his muscles relax just the slightest.

Perhaps he could do this. Be leader of AshClan with the support of his brother, Smalltree, and his mate, Cedarshade.

He thought of his mate, light footed and the color of blue storm clouds with eyes as blazing as the sun itself. He couldn't help but smile at the image, content.

Maybe, he could do this.

But, then another image entered his mind. This one the image of a broad shouldered, scarred tomcat. His fur a patterned tabby with brown the color of chestnut. Eyes sharp and concentrated as his torn up ears stiffened, alert.

Quickstorm. Gladiator of AshClan. The _rightful_ leader of AshClan seeing as Winterstar had no living mate or heir to take his place.

They had left before he had returned from his mission that Gladiators were commonly given that took them from their territories to deal with outside threats, such as rouges or foxes that lingered at the edges of the seven Clans' territories.

Shadowthorn wondered if he was back yet and his muscles tensed once more into a tight coil at the thought of confronting the tom if they got back and he was there. Demanding why Shadowthorn had taken his nine lives.

"I wonder if Quickstorm will have any patience," he murmured almost to himself as he watched the ground carefully.

There was only silence to answer his words and he knew what they were all thinking.

_Quickstorm didn't have patience_.

Their thoughts were broken by the shift of the undergrowth and three cats appeared. Lean and lithe as was the trademark of RainClan warriors.

The mottled gray tom who was leading the group paused at the sight of the AshClan cats. His ears flicked up in interest and he murmured a few words to his patrol and as one they approached the borders.

Smalltree stood up, tail raised high in authority but with eyes that were respectful, "Good day, Cranepool," she welcomed warmly.

The mottled gray dipped his head, "What do I owe the pleasure of AshClan cats on our border?" His voice was respectful, if tinged with curiosity.

"We only wish to be granted access through RainClan territory. We have a new leader that needs to receive his nine lives."

The only emotion he could see was shock as it ricocheted through the three RainClan warriors. Their eyes confused as they glanced at one another as if the other held an explanation.

Cranepool's eyes scanned over the trio, "Winterstar is dead?" He murmured, tone neither relieved nor regretful.

"Yes," Smalltree replied, "His soul rests with StarClan now."

One of the RainClan warriors, a short black tom, glanced at his other silent companion, "I doubt his soul rests with StarClan."

There was the subtlest twitch of Darkcloud's lips and Shadowthorn could feel the disgust rolling off his broad shouldered brother. Even four years after the War of the Lost the remaining seven Clans felt little to no remorse for Winterstar's defeat.

It appeared his death granted similar reactions.

Cranepool choose to not acknowledge his patrol member. Instead looking at Smalltree, "You have my permission to pass through RainClan territory to get to Mooncave. But, may I ask one question of you?"

Smalltree nodded, though her eyes betrayed her worry for the question.

"Has something happened with Quickstorm?" the mottled gray tom asked, "I don't see him among you. Isn't he supposed to be the next in line to rule?" There was no question. Just a stinging accusation that Winterstar was still defiant to the Warrior Code and purposefully broke it to get his way.

To his great surprise Smalltree seemed to simply ignore the question. Turning green eyes to him.

It hit him almost as quickly as the viper's strike. She wanted him to answer for himself. To prove that he didn't need others to answer for him.

She was testing him to see how he would possibly shape into a leader.

He stood, on trembling paws, and looked at Cranepool, who turned his eyes on him, "I assure you, Quickstorm is quite alright. With his last breath Winterstar gave me the right of leadership. It's me who's going to meet our ancestors and receive my nine lives as the true leader of AshClan."

There was no time to hide the collective shock across all three of the RainClan cats. Cranepool's ear twitched slightly.

Eventually the mottled warrior dipped his head, "Then I should not keep you waiting." The remark was simple, respectful. But, there was a glimpse of something in those deep eyes that unsettled Shadowthorn and he hoped that he was not the only one to have caught the look.

The three AshClan cats dipped their heads in respect and kindness. Shadowthorn summed up all the unspoken words in two simple sentences, "Thank you for your kindness. We won't cause any trouble."

As they crossed the border onto the windswept moor Shadowthorn caught the burning words from the warrior who had spoken badly of AshClan before, "Trouble is all you AshClan cats cause. Pain and misery. Obvious disobeying of our Warrior Code as well-"

"Silence!" Cranepool's voice, sounding just as irritated as Shadowthorn felt, "They'll keep their words. We have to report back to Featherstar anyway."

There was no sound as the lithe cats disappeared into the undergrowth that grew alongside the border between AshClan and RainClan. There was neither a sound from the AshClan party. Their own minds drifting and thinking. Dreading the future with the slightest bit of optimism.

At least, Darkcloud and Smalltree must have been feeling that.

All Shadowthorn felt was the burden already weighing on his back, threatening to snap him in half.

He registered the storm clouds now. Noticed the wind clawing savagely at them as they crossed the moor.

He shivered.

* * *

><p>The Sky Cave lay just beyond the RainClan border. Away from the Twolegplace that bordered the other part of the moorland Clan. Settled in a deep forest of thick and tightly standing trees and covered by a bush of thorns that seemed to brush gently across any Clan cat who entered it, while stinging and ripping any one else who tried.<p>

They had hunted briefly. With the prey flourishing as greatly as the plants around them they ate well. Satisfying hungry stomachs that had started growling half way through their travel here.

Now, after their feast, Shadowthorn could see the yawning, black hole that led to the tunnel which, in turn, led to the Sky Cave.

He wondered if the thorns would cut him. Rejecting him from receiving his nine lives.

"Stay here. Only the leader and medicine cat can enter during a time like this." Smalltree was addressing his brother. The broad shouldered tom nodded without complaint and turned his attention to the area around them, which was quickly turning dusk into night.

They had made it just in time. Night would be here soon and the spirits of their ancestors would gaze down upon and give him their blessing and nine lives.

"Let's go," Smalltree murmured, passing him and brushing aside the thorns without a second thought. Disappearing into the yawning tunnel.

Shadowthorn followed, taking a breath as the thorns rolled off his pelt like water on duck feathers. He felt his eyes widen in quiet anticipation and excitement, much like the kind he had had as an apprentice, rippled through his chest as he disappeared into the tunnel. The light blinking out like a tiny flame extinguished from existence. Leaving them in pure and full black.

His whiskers guided him, though the tunnel was a single tunnel that had no branches, brushing along the dirt walls and following Smalltree's scent that smelled of herbs and wind.

He was beginning to lose track of time down here as the tunnel sloped down and down before leveling out. Even then it seemed to drag forever. Twisting and turning in the darkness. Shadowthorn could've sworn he felt his paws slip into the prints of ancestors long since gone on the smooth floor. Swore he felt their fur brush him as the tunnel opened up into a small area.

The sky yawned above them. Towering, stone walls shielded them from the cold wind and thorns encircling the edges of the deep hole that made up the Sky Cave. Free of leaves and trees and with the moon rising to its peak, sending down silver rays of moonlight into the hole and illuminating the sides in a dull silver that would only grow brighter as the moon reached its peak. The tiny winks of small rocks embedded in the sides of the towering walls seemed to wave at them as they entered. A small, raised mound of solid dirt rose in the middle of the Sky Cave. As if the moon was physically pulling it from the ground.

He felt his throat clench dangerously and his paws tremble all the more at the very fact that this was where countless others had come to receive their nine lives for generations upon generations of warrior cats.

_And I will be among them_, the thought struck him oddly in the midst of his silent panic. He blinked his eyes, raised his head to the moon and watched the stars, big and small, twinkle and blink down at them as if they awaited the moment just as eagerly and worriedly as the cats below.

He wondered if one of the stars was Winterstar and the thought pulled harshly at his heart.

He wondered if Winterstar would give him one of his lives. It was a redundant thought and he quickly dismissed it with a flick of his ear.

"Go on, Shadowthorn." Smalltree's voice was awed, her eyes wide as she took in every detail. Her pelt was the color of murky gray, "The ancestors will be here soon. Lay down in the middle. Close your eyes. StarClan will be there and I will be here when you wake."

Her words were reassuring, quiet and Shadowthorn felt calmed by the presence of the trusted medicine cat.

Just as he reached the raised mound, curled up with his tail curled over his front paws, the moon hit its peak.

The whole Sky Cave seemed to light up in a brilliance that forced him to close his eyes as the cave turned into a blaze of blinding white and the small rocks glowed and flickered like the stars themselves had fallen from the sky to land on the stone walls.

It was so simple and yet he felt his breath pulled from him in a moment of awe and he watched for a moment before closing his eyes, tilting his head ever so slightly towards the sky and the moon with its blinding light.

Ready for his nine lives.

* * *

><p>The light dimmed.<p>

Not in a drastic way. But it shimmered out like a low glowing ember that still had life.

He could feel the air swirling and tilting around him. Gentle compared to the fierce wind that had plagued them on their journey here. The land around him smelled of starlight and fresh air from the purest source.

Shadowthorn opened his eyes and he started at the scenery. The sky above was inky black, but the land around him seemed to glow with an unearthly light. Like it was made of the moon's rays and the stars burning light. He found himself in the middle of a field, short grass whispering as the wind caressed it. He heard water from both sides as it slunk past the area out of sight.

But, it was the spirits that truly caught his attention.

In a circle they sat. Hundreds of them seemed to fill the place, but only nine stood out in a brilliant wash of pure moonlight and speckled with dots of stars.

The nine encircled him, watching him with warmth he had not expected. He wished he could move, but he felt as though his paws were stuck in mud. Snaring him to the spot.

"Welcome, Shadowthorn of AshClan." Thousands of voices rose up into one massive, channeling tone.

He wished he could speak to them. But his tongue seemed slow, his mouth felt dry.

That's when a single shape, one of the nine, moved in a smooth blur of graceful movement.

His eyes locked onto the movement. Hung onto the shape as the small brown tabby tom padded his way up. The cat was young, perhaps barely past his warrior ceremony. Fur untouched by the scars of older warriors and his eyes a handsome green as he paused before Shadowthorn.

His throat swelled with emotion as he recognized the tom.

"R-Redstream." His voice betrayed him, cracking at the sight of his dear friend now passed.

"It's been a while, Shadowthorn," the tabby replied with a contentedness that shocked the black tom. Those green eyes, which had been hauntingly glassy the last time Shadowthorn had seen him, raked over him critically before a smile broke out, "I see you've finally outgrown me, mouse." The old nickname rolled off his tongue simply and warmly.

_That's only because you died_, Shadowthorn thought, remembering the day, _And I wasn't there to be at your side._

The guilt had weighed so heavily on him since the day they had come back with his best friend's body and told him he had been slain in a border dispute with RainClan.

It was as though the tabby could read right through him. His green eyes softened, "Don't fret, dear friend," he murmured, "Today is a blessing for both of us. You, leader of AshClan. And I get to see my friend once more."

"So you've accepted me?" He couldn't stop the waver in his voice and he hated how weak he sounded. How weak he had been since Smalltree had pulled him from camp and told him his new role as leader of AshClan.

"We all have," Redstream replied sternly, "But, I understand your fears. And I hope I can lessen them for you. I will be the first to give you your nine lives. A true honor." Redstream pressed his nose to Shadowthorn's forehead and it didn't escape the black cat that he had to lower his head so that Redstream could do so, "With this life I give you courage. Use it in the worst battles and when facing opposition for not all will agree with what you wish to do."

The life coursed through him. Soothingly at first before flaring outwards into a burning, peeling whip of fire that scorched his bones and boiled his blood. Sucking the air from his lungs.

It was the feeling he got before a battle. When he cooled his fear and turned it into courage. It was the feeling he got when arguing with a clan mate but determined to get his point across.

He blinked open eyes he didn't even know he had closed and looked almost blankly at Redstream. Who's green eyes suddenly seemed sad, as though he were seeing things that Shadowthorn couldn't.

But, at the sight of Shadowthorn's gaze the green eyes brightened once more, "Congratulations, mouse," he whispered, "Just eight more." Then the tabby turned away to replace his spot in the circle of nine.

_I don't think I can survive eight more_, Shadowthorn thought suddenly. Realizing he still felt numb and exhausted from this one life.

The next cat to approach him was a broad shouldered white she-cat. Her warm blue eyes gazed at him with pride.

Shadowthorn felt himself sit a bit straighter as the she-cat paused before him, "Snowfeather," he greeted his former mentor with a warm purr.

Snowfeather dipped her head, an odd display considering she had once trained Shadowthorn, "It is good to see you again, Shadowthorn," she said in her soft voice that she had been known for as a living cat.

"And it's good to see you," Shadowthorn agreed, gazing at his mentor with respect.

The white she-cat's nose pressed to his forehead with little difficulty, "With this life I give you the life of teaching so that those who live around you may learn to be their greatest self. Which also includes you."

This life was not like Redstream's storm and turmoil. This life was warm, soothing as if the sun's rays were soaking into his pelt. He could almost hear the murmur of countless mentors and their teachings as they danced around him like the calm breeze. It picked up in intensity, shifting and tearing at him as the wind seemed to picked up speed and the voices hissed into wind.

Ever so suddenly the voices stopped and Shadowthorn blinked open his eyes, feeling his heart pound. His mentor was already turning away from him and he was able to speak for the briefest of moments with the voice he had left, "Thank you."

Snowfeather paused, glanced over her shoulder, and nodded before returning to her spot.

The third cat to approach him was his grandfather. The deep, bulky mass of muscle had returned to the cat in death. A startling difference to the skinny elder who had passed away from age.

In StarClan, it seemed, age returned as well as strength and vigor.

Shadowthorn smiled as the large tom paused before him. He dipped his head to the ink black tom, "It's good to see you again, Nightwater." He murmured.

"Raise your head, Shadowthorn. You are the leader of AshClan now. You bow only to cats of equal rank now." The deep thrum reminded Shadowthorn of a river as he raised his head to look into the amber of his grandfather.

"Yes, Nightwater, of course."

The tom smiled, placing his nose on his forehead, "With this life I give you ambition. Though some would say it is an unworthy trait I believe it is ambition that has continued our legacy for generations. Use it to protect and cement AshClan's."

The life burned through him, quick and hot as lightning. Everything he had ever thought of that could change his Clan swarmed through him like bees. Stinging and buzzing through his head until his ears rang. He felt his breath taken from him and for a split second he wondered if he would pass out.

But, just as the black was edging in on his vision the pain left as suddenly as it came. Leaving him breathless and gasping for air.

His grandfather hadn't even waited for him to recover before rejoining the ranks of StarClan. Shadowthorn wasn't surprised, his grandfather was always straight forward. Blunt.

_"You bow only to cats of equal rank now."_

His words gave Shadowthorn paused. That couldn't be it, could it? There was a difference between arrogance and pride. Moons of living had taught Shadowthorn that. What his grandfather had said to him had been arrogance in his eyes. Every cat should be treated as an equal from the smallest kit to the oldest elder. A leader was merely a cat who led the others. That didn't mean they treated them like foxdung.

At least, most leaders didn't.

"Thinking again, Shadowthorn? You always were good at that." The words dragged him from his thoughts, and he blinked his eyes. Finding himself looking a soft pelted she-cat. Tortoiseshell coat flecked with shimmering gray which smelled of herbs.

"It's good to see you again, Silverspots," he greeted the former medicine cat was a warm smile.

The blue eyes twinkled at him as the she-cat dipped her head, "And it is good to see you as well, Shadowthorn." She glanced at him knowingly, "I would not dwell too much on your grandfather's words. He always was a strict cat with a bit too much ambition," she said, her words hushed and quiet, "So, I will give you a more gentle life." Her nose, cold and soothing after the heat of his last life, froze him to the spot, "With this life I give you understanding. While your visions may differ from another's always remember that there are two sides to each story. Experiences will change how ones sees life and you must understand where each objection is coming from. Enemies can become friends when each side understands the other."

True to her words this life was calm and peaceful. It seemed to cool away the burning sting of the last three lives, leaving him refreshed and open minded to all around him as he opened his eyes and gazed at the waves of star pelted cats. Wondering, ever so briefly, what their story was. How they came to be and what they agreed or disagreed on.

His gaze found Silverspots and the she-cat nodded to him, "I once asked for you to be my apprentice, Shadowthorn. I was angry when Winterstar refused, but now I understand why. You will make a great leader, if you can stick to being yourself and only yourself. Unwavering, but open minded."

Shadowthorn's ears pricked in surprise at Silverspots confession. Had she really wanted him as an apprentice?

He wondered how differently his life would've been had Winterstar not refused and he had worked under her mentoring.

Silverspots turned away, a glance over her shoulder that showed no emotion. Almost like she was contemplating something that baffled even her.

The next cat to approach was one he did not recognize. He didn't mind the absence of the numbing pain from seeing deceased friends and family, but he also felt worried as the cat approached for he didn't know her.

She was a thick she-cat. Shoulders rolling with muscle that was hidden beneath short, cream fur. One of her ears had a terrible tear through it, but other than that she was untouched by scars or imperfections.

She paused before him and he could feel the powerful air that emitted from her and he found himself humbled in her presence.

"I am Creamfur," the she-cat started, "You did not know me just as I did not know you. I was an ancestor of yours that passed to StarClan seasons ago. I am honored to give you your fifth life." She pressed her cool nose to his head and he felt calmed despite her intimidating presence, "And with this life I give you the life of loyalty. Loyalty to your Clan, loyalty to yourself, but most of all loyalty to what is right in the end. Because it is the leaders who lead right that gain loyalty from their followers."

The life jolted through him. Forcing the air from his lungs and agony to flare through his head as he claimed his next life. But, despite the pain, he felt a sort of warmth within the pain. As though he was sensing every cat's loyalty from Cedarshade's love to his Clanmates' respect.

The life, as the agony ebbed away, left him feeling reassured, happy. He blinked open his eyes and looked at Creamfur, "Thank you."

The she-cat dipped her head, the slightest smile on her face. Before she simply turned and padded away.

The next cat to approach was a young kit. Blue gray and soft furred the young tom had shimmering blue eyes that matched Shadowthorn's.

Excitement bubbled up in him, "Bluekit?" He exclaimed. Memories of their kithood bringing joy to his heart despite the fact that he was looking at his deceased brother.

"Brother!" Bluekit returned rushing up to him in a flurry of excitement, "I've missed you! But, it's so nice here! Everyone is never hungry and everyone is always happy! Except for grandfather Nightwater. But, he's never happy."

Shadowthorn smiled down at him, "That's amazing to hear, Bluekit. But, are you here to give me a life?"

"Yes! Can you lay down please? You've gotten so big."

Shadowthorn obliged. Crouching down and closing his eye as Bluekit placed his nose on his forehead, "With this life I give you the life of family. Remember, family doesn't end in blood. The clan is your family. Friends are your family. Cherish them because you never know when their time will come to join StarClan."

This life was kind. Warm and brimming with joy that flowed through him and washing calm over him.

He opened his eyes and saw Bluekit watch him. He gave his young brother a smile.

"StarClan is great and all," Bluekit said suddenly, "But, it's missing one thing. My brothers. But, that's alright. When you're ready."

There was one last lick on the ear and one last smile before Bluekit turned and returned to his spot in the circle.

Shadowthorn stood up. Feeling suddenly distant and saddened.

"He talks a lot. Doesn't he?" The female voice made him smile and he purred as he noticed the small orange tabby padding towards him. The ripped ear that he had given her during a training accident flicked playfully as she paused before him.

"That's alright I hope he doesn't change," Shadowthorn murmured.

Sunfur smiled, "Me too. Now. Are you ready to receive your seventh life?"

"I'm always ready," Shadowthorn chuckled.

Sunfur flicked her torn ear, "Of course. How could I forget?" Pressing her nose to his forehead Shadowthorn smiled lightly, "With this life I give you love. Share it, not only with those you care for. But, also for life and every small thing in life. Every breath to every kit born to every friend made. Love entirely."

Refreshing. That was the word for this life. It made him feel light. Filled with love and admiration for every living thing and every moment from small to large.

When Sunfur pulled away she smiled, "Nice to see you finally settle down with Cedarshade. We always thought you two were cute together."

He gave her a smile. Watching her saunter off.

He took a breath. Just two more to go.

He watched the approaching spirit and was struck by whom it was.

His father. Muscled and youthful, those yellow eyes and black and white fur so much like Shadowthorn's brother.

"F-Father," Shadowthorn trembled, forcing his paws to still and to sit just the slightest bit straighter. The wind playing with his short fur. He ignored it. Locking his eyes with those deep yellow that reflected every emotion and yet nothing at all.

"My son. How proud I am of you. I can see the eagerness even if you do not have the confidence... yet." The black and white tom smiled to him, long fur shifting in the breeze, "Are you ready for your second to last life?"

"Of course," Shadowthorn replied, proud at the fact that his voice remained strong despite facing his father's spirit.

"Good," a cold nose, resting on his forehead and he closed his eyes. Relishing in the sense of safety his father emitted to him, "Patience is the life I give to you, Shadowthorn. This life will help you if you know how to use it. It will help you with giving second chances and when teaching the slower cats of the Clan and when facing those who'd rather fight than listen to their leader's reasons."

The life, to Shadowthorn's relief, was soothing and calming. He felt like he could take just about anything thrown at him with all the cool ease of a veteran warrior or a retired elder.

He eagerly accepted the life. Blinking open his eyes when the warm feeling had passed and he looked up at his father. Seeing the tears in the elder tom's eyes he gave him a smile, "Thank you, father."

A dip of the mighty head. A sign of respect, "It is an honor... Tell your brother we miss him and are just as proud of him as we are of you."

"Of course."

There seemed to be a type of acceptance settling over the clearing. The star frosted warriors watching with those deep wisdom filled eyes and Shadowthorn felt himself eager to meet his last life giver.

They stepped forth with delicate paws and star lit fur. Sleek brown glowed with an unearthly light and Shadowthorn felt the smile on his lips.

Of course she would be the last cat to give him his last life.

His mother's deep amber eyes were sharp and lively. Playful and keen as she gracefully stopped in front of him.

"My son," she murmured, as if words couldn't express everything she felt. Pride, hope, encouragement. "My warrior. My leader. How far you've come in so short a time. Your path has been hard. Your path has been yours alone. But, remember, you don't always have to walk alone. Are you ready for your last life?"

Shadowthorn had no words towards the cat who had been his idol. His mother. Her influence that he had tried so hard to remember even though she had died when he had been so young. "I am, Mother."

"Good." Her nose, surprisingly warm to Shadowthorn, pressed to his forehead and he could feel the life. Fire and ice. Hopelessness and courage. Understanding and independence. All wrapped into a warm hum that quaked through his veins and trembled his paws, "With this life I give you acceptance. While we may choose our own path at times, more often than not the path we travel has been set long before we are born. It is your duty to accept this and to carry forth, even when the road seems lost and the darkness thick."

Her words were oddly ominous. Something akin to fear slipping through the proud mask that she had spoken with before.

Shadowthorn felt his tail flick uneasily.

His mother pulled away, giving him an encouraging lick on his ear, "Remember that? Always?"

The words sounded like a plead underneath all her casualness.

He looked into those amber eyes, "Always," he promised.

The genuine look of happiness made all his sudden worries disappear.

Turning to the crowd his mother cheered those important words, "Given nine lives by StarClan themselves! Blessed by the ancestors and respected by the clan! Welcome, Shadowstar! Leader of AshClan!"

The returning call shook Shadowstar to his very bones. The voices of StarClan rippling into one glorious thundering tone.

"Shadowstar! Shadowstar! Shadowstar!"

And it was _his_ name they were chanting. His name they were welcoming.

Never had he felt so empowered and never had he felt so humbled.

He dipped his head, closing his eyes as the storm of his name settled in his mind as affirmation. StarClan had accepted him. Granted him the nine lives of a true leader.

Through the darkness of years past AshClan was coming to a gray point. A new start to a history drenched in recent blood.

Shadowstar was determined to stop the flow of scarlet right now. The moment he awoke.

That's when he realized that StarClan's voice had dispersed. Evaporated like mist in early morning sun.

He opened his eyes. Found darkness surrounding him and he blinked in confusion. Crisp air whistled above the mouth of the Sky Cave and he glanced up. Noting that the moon had edged away from its highest point and was dipping below the treeline to surrender the sky to the sun's reign once more. The once glowing walls were silent and dark now. Almost menacing.

Shadowstar, on shaky paws, pushed himself up. Distantly he could hear Smalltree shift closer to him. Her voice, pinched with hidden concern, reached him almost as a whisper even though she must have been talking normally.

"Did they accept you? Did you get your nine lives?"

Still he watched the moon. The fading stars that he had been among just seconds ago seemed so far away now. So distant. Yet he could still hear their voices and feel the nine lives filling his veins.

"Yes," he eventually replied, watching the moon slip and the stars fade, "They accepted me. I have my nine lives."

Smalltree gave no indication on if the news surprised her or relieved her. She merely said, "Good. Let's go home."

* * *

><p><strong>While Darkpaw may be the most interesting character, Shadowthornstar here is by far one of them more... intense ones. He's a cat who has way too much on his mind.**

**Which can be good or bad.**

**Next Chapter we'll dive in Darkpaw's POV and hopefully gather some more info on his Falling chant he had going there at the end of Ch. 3!**

**Until then, thanks for the silent views and or possible reviews! I appreciate them!**

**Have a great day!**

**- Raven**


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